


a maze that leads to you

by fictionalportal



Series: 30 Days of Pride [15]
Category: The Shannara Chronicles (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, F/F, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Love at First Sight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 16:26:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11234766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionalportal/pseuds/fictionalportal
Summary: Based on a post (I can't find the original, sorry!) where the princess' hand in marriage is given away only to the person who can make her laugh.Princess Amberle makes every effort to avoid her suitors, and one day her evasive maneuvers land her in a secret part of the palace gardens with an unfamiliar woman.





	a maze that leads to you

If you asked Princess Amberle, she would tell you that she wasn’t sad or angry or depressed. She was, quite plainly, bored.

Amberle loved her grandfather, but he was stickler for tradition, always putting the past ahead of the present. At sixteen, Amberle had made it very clear to her father that she wasn’t interested in getting married until she wanted to. Having an unmarried princess flitting about the palace as if she were one of the servant children made the rest of the royal family uneasy to say the least.

Once she turned eighteen, she was expected to keep the company of Arborlon’s least scintillating politicians and diplomats. She liked her Uncle Ander well enough, but his sympathetic smiles weren’t enough to keep her interested in conversation at parties or focused during council meetings.

On Amberle’s nineteenth birthday, her grandfather gave her an ultimatum.

“You have one year to find a husband or I shall find one for you.”

She protested, but he held up a hand to silence her.

The king spoke more gently. “All of my sons were matched with suitable spouses long before their comings of age. Why is it so unpalatable to you to do the same? It is tradition.”

And with that, Amberle knew that she had lost this argument. No, she would have some say in whom she married.

“I have one request, grandfather,” she began, “and that is that I be allowed to choose my betrothed.”

“Not even I had that privilege, my dear,” he said. “Your uncles--”

“I am not you, and I am not my uncles,” Amberle insisted. “If I am to spend the rest of my life with someone, it will not be one of your council members’ humorless, serpentine sons.”

The king’s eyes sparkled. “You have the will of an entire army of men, Amberle. He who makes you laugh shall be your husband.”

Amberle bowed, accepting that this was the best she could hope for from the negotiation. Nonetheless, Amberle felt the walls of the palace closing in on her, and she took to spending her free afternoons out in the palace gardens. She’d learned about all of the best nooks and hidden meadows from her once close friends, Catania and Wil and all of the others whom she never saw anymore.

The princess sat under a young, full tree and wondered why her uncle had issued such a strange proclamation. Amberle, for all of her criticism about the severe council, comported herself seriously. She would thank the cooks with a warm smile or greet her uncle with a grin, but rarely did she find herself laughing. Perhaps she would be able to fend off suitors after all.

Her hope was short-lived as her uncle Arion discovered her habit of walking about the gardens alone and insisted that she be accompanied. The nobles caught wind of this demand quickly and sent their sons to the king’s right hand to ask if they might be granted permission to promenade with the princess. Amberle’s walks became blind dates, and she mourned the loss of her last oasis of peace.

As she expected, most of the young men who walked with her were more interested in discussing politics than admiring the greenery. Worse, some did not wish to talk at all. She learned to stay on the main path where the faithful gardeners could keep a watchful eye over her. Plus, she wasn’t interested in sharing her favorite hiding spots with the very people she wished to avoid.

Amberle found Lorin, the son of a council member and her uncle Arion’s squire, to be the least unpleasant of the suitors. He had kind eyes and a handsome enough face, and he seemed content to walk in silence. She took to him and told her uncle as much. Her grandfather smiled proudly when she informed him that she would be walking exclusively with Lorin, though she was firm in her resolve.

“I am not agreeing to marry him,” Amberle said, “he is simply more tolerable company than his peers.”

Lorin stopped abruptly during one of their walks one day.

Amberle halted a few steps in front of him and turned to find him down on one knee. Alarms blared in her head, and when he reached for her hand she ran.

She ducked behind a hedge, searching frantically for a gap between the bushes and the ground that would take her to the hidden parts of the maze that she had gone so long without visiting. There was a patch of uprooted vines a few feet away telling of an escape route.

Amberle yanked the cluster of vines from the base of the hedge and crawled through on her forearms. When she was nearly free, she felt something snag. Had Lorin found her?

Fortunately, her dress had merely caught on a stick, and with a reckless tug she freed herself and left a piece of her soiled silver dress behind. She pulled her legs through the hedge, alone at last.

“Don’t you knock?”

Amberle snapped to attention in the direction of the voice. She saw one of the gardeners, in her uniform broad-brimmed hat and brown leather vest, sitting by a patch of wildflowers.

“Sorry,” Amberle said, surprised by her own remorsefulness. This was her garden, her haven. She needn’t apologize to a gardener who was very clearly taking an extended, early lunch break. As Amberle approached the gardener, she realized that her face was unfamiliar. “Are you new?”

The gardener glanced up at Amberle, a glint in her eye. “You could say that.”

Amberle’s brows knit together at the girl’s strange behavior. They had been in each other’s presence for two whole minutes and the gardener had yet to leap up and bow or greet Amberle with a royal title. “Do you know who I am?”

“By the state of your dress, I’d say you’re running away from some guy.” The girl shrugged and returned her attention to her lunch, her hat falling into her eyes when she dropped her gaze. She pushed the hat out of her field of vision with one hand while the other held her sandwich. When she took a large bite, Amberle noticed a small tattoo on the girl’s forehead.

“...You’re a thief,” Amberle said slowly. The tattoo meant the girl had been caught stealing from someone important, and somehow this girl had gotten into the palace.

The girl cast a vicious glare at the princess that made Amberle’s muscles tense.

“I’m getting my guards.”

The girl’s eyebrows climbed up her forehead. “Your guards?” The girl’s eyes widened slowly as she put the pieces together. “You’re the princess?”

“And you’re not welcome here.” Amberle turned, bracing herself to climb back under the hedge.

“Wait, please.” The girl’s voice was small, all of the swagger dissipated. Amberle looked at her again, and the girl was very suddenly less threatening. “Please.”

Amberle weighed the possible outcomes of the situation. There was more than a slight possibility that she might end up stabbed and left for dead behind a secret bush, but Amberle found herself intrigued by this strange girl. Guards would not be kind to a branded thief, and so Amberle decided to stay and learn her story before sentencing her to prison or worse.

When Amberle gathered what was left of her skirts and sat down, she heard the girl exhale sharply. A tiny, thankful smile appeared on the girl’s face, her eyes shining. Dark brown eyes, Amberle noticed.

She sat with the girl while she ate and was startled when the girl spoke of her own volition.

“I’m not a thief,” she said, gulping down a dry bite.

“So you got that tattoo for fun?” Amberle asked.

“No.” The single caustic word made Amberle flinch. The girl took a breath before continuing. “I’ve had it since I was little. My father got tired of me running off, so he--” her voice broke and she quickly shoved the sandwich into her mouth.

Amberle wanted to tell the girl how sorry she was to hear the truth, but she had a feeling that this girl had no desire or use for pity. Instead, she extended her hand to the girl. “I’m Amberle,” she said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

The girl stared at Amberle’s hand as if it were covered in slime, but her glare softened when her eyes met Amberle’s. Some of the hardness melted away out of the girl’s shoulders as she shook the princess’ hand. “Eretria.”

Amberle blinked at her a few times, her mind blank for words.

“Princess?”

“Hm?” Amberle followed Eretria’s gaze down to their still-connected hands. “Oh,” Amberle breathed, pulling her hand away and clearing her throat. “You’re welcome to stay at the palace as long as you wish. As my guest.”

Eretria’s preliminary shock gave way to joy quickly, and she flashed a glittering smile. “I won’t steal anything, I swear.”

Amberle laughed--and knew Eretria had done just that.

**Author's Note:**

> I just started watching this show, and I would literally kill a man for Eretria.
> 
> Sorry I haven't been updating this series consistently; my creativity has been on vacation the past couple of days :/
> 
> Send me prompts over at @fictional-portal on tumblr! (please, i'm running out and need to write more gay shit)


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